Requiem: Pour La Petit Mort
by Kelly Melly
Summary: Entry for GOS. Scarlett's disappointment concerning her unsuccessful Crush is soon forgotten when she discovers the musician in her newlywed husband...and even herself.


Hey guys! Here is my Glut of Smut entry. I posted it over on the archive boards but I always like posting things here too. For this GOS fest, everyone was given a scenario. I was given a scenario, thanks CJ and Skyebugs! :), where I had to involve a piano...well...that worked out just fine for me because I was a music major for two years and I have been playing the piano for over a decade! So, I thoroughly enjoyed doing this piece. As many know, it's late but...better late than never, right? :)

Speaking of late...to all of you who are reading "My Best Friend's Wedding", first of all, thanks so much! I can't tell you how much fun I am having writing that story and the fact that so many share in my enthusiasm for it is overwhelming. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. To my reviewers, thank you so much for your support...and even if you don't review and you just read! I am glad you keep coming back...I am having so much fun with this story, just the fact that I get to share it with you is awesome :) That being said, cuz I have to gush on you guys a little :), it is a little late (a little?) but the next installment should be up within the week. I hope those of you who got the cookie enjoyed the little preview for the next chapter :)

**Quick Note to Younger Readers(Because I used to be you...): **Look, obviously I can't make you not read this, but this story is obviously mature, so if you are a little thing...please don't read this. Let me clarify this...if you are under, let's say, 15 you shouldn't be reading this. Go check out some of the other awesome stories out there! There are plenty that you can read without compromising your parents rules and so on. I might be harping, but I am, in no way, okay with a thirteen or fourteen year old reading this and I need everyone to know that for my own peace of mind. And how do I know that you are out there reading this? Because I have been in this fandom since I was 12, that's why. :) So...please, if you want to read some GWTW fanfiction go check out my favorites! The stories listed there are the best on the site and there are lots of good ones that are appropriate for younger readers. But this? Not so much...

Sorry to harp...but I had to say it for my own peace of mind.

There is one anachronism in this story concerning one of the compositions but I put it in anyway, because 1) it's my favorite piece ever and 2) it's a tribute to my favorite fanfic author of all time Quiet2885 (she writes for Phantom...if you like Phantom, go check her out! She is amazing!) But I am not going to tell you which piece it is...let's see if you can guess ;) Anyway...enjoy.

Sorry for the length of this AN...I had alot to say. I have been gone too long :) Special thanks to Bugsy for editing and being awesomeness incarnate...

**DISCLAIMER: **If I owned GWTW, this would have DEFINITELY made it's way into the book, okay?

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_This starts right after the last person has left Scarlett's "crush" for her new house in Atlanta…the first paragraph is taken from the book. I did change one minor detail…let's see if you notice :)_

Her elegant "crush"! She had planned it so lovingly, and so few old friends and no old enemies had been there to see how wonderful it was! After the last guest had gone home, she would have cried and stormed had she not been afraid that Rhett would roar with laughter, afraid that she would read "I told you so" in his dancing black eyes, even if he did not speak the words.

She sat in the foyer on a bench just inside the door, willing the tears of anger away. They were the kind of tears that she had given in to so many times before. The tears of a child who had wanted her way and wasn't able to have it, no matter what she did. She crossed her arms furiously, her breathing coming out in quick, staccato pants. She could feel her chin trembling and she was sure, suddenly, that she wouldn't be able to hold back the torrent of frustration and disappointment.

Just then, she heard music coming from the parlor. Piano music. It was beautiful and melancholy, much like she felt at the moment and it soothed her ruffled feathers. She stood and, unable to quench the childlike curiosity she had always possessed, she walked unknowingly towards the parlor, towards the music. The door was cracked open and she wondered if one of the musicians had snuck downstairs before leaving to play her beautiful, dark wood grand piano.

Scarlett had learned to play when she was young and could play with the precision of any other young lady in town, with the exception of a few. In other words, her playing had always been mediocre at best for she had never had the patience to sit for long enough to practice as she should. She had always lacked the interest in learning something that took so long to master. Not that she wasn't fond of music. Music was beauty and fun and parties and she did enjoy it, but had not the attention span necessary for mastering such a skillful art.

She peaked her head in to see who was playing the beautiful song that had so quickly and effortlessly lifted her spirits in light of her ruined "crush"… Scarlett's breath caught and she stopped short at the sight before her. She opened the door wider, watching in awe as her husband, Rhett Butler, played with precise and articulate fingers. She was beyond shocked. Never had she dreamed that Rhett Butler, of all people, could play the piano with such skill. Her shock over the revelation reminded her anew of just how little she knew about this man that she had been acquainted with for so long.

The music! The music was beautiful! She walked slowly towards him. He was facing away from her, bent expertly over the board as he molded the keys into a beautiful melody. She found herself walking in rhythm to the song. She only stopped once when his fingers, the same large fingers that she had once been deemed almost too massive for gentility, moved swiftly up the board only to lithely and nimbly move back down. The movement of his hands was so precise, so agile…Scarlett was mesmerized. During a crescendo in the beautiful harmony, Rhett's hand shot up the keys to play a repetitive, staccato trill. His now seemingly supple fingers floated over the keys with an ease likened to a gentle wind passing through a quiet forest; a grace like that of the soft, slow rustle of a woman's skirts…

Scarlett's breath caught at the thought, for the sight of Rhett's dark hands arched over the black and white keys brought to mind memories that she had seldom deemed worthy of remembrance. Warm and lazy nights in a bridal suite in New Orleans. The strange but thrilling anticipation as Rhett's foreign, dark hands ran smoothly, effortlessly over her soft white skin. For reasons she couldn't explain, the reminiscence of such nights shot an unexpected, yet untamed surge of emotions that left her breathless and light-headed. She would assume later that part of the reason for such unrestrained and unashamed emotion was an over indulgence in alcohol on her part, but tonight explanations for these feelings were far from her mind. Her body was too full of the emotions themselves to feel or warrant excuses for the meaning behind them. She exhaled loudly, allowing all the air to leave her body. Her stomach tingled pleasurably before she inhaled again. Rhett must have heard her for he immediately stopped his ministrations to the piano and turned to look behind him. At the sight of her he merely grinned and turned back around and started to play again.

"Come sit, Scarlett. Have a nightcap with me…" Her hazy brain comprehended his words, bringing her back to the rational world. Nightcap!

"Why, Rhett!" she said, trying to sound shocked at the idea that her husband would ask her to sit and drink a nightcap with him.

Rhett's fingers came down on the keys, causing an array of notes, arranged in an unpleasant sounding chord, to harshly resound through the room. He was laughing at her. "Come now, Scarlett. You do not need to give me your lady-like airs. I know you drink. I know how much you drink. And I don't mind…as long as you take your nightcaps with me." He spun himself around on the piano bench, a decanter and a glass in his hand. He poured her a shot—a nice, large one—and offered it to her. She desperately wanted to decline the drink. However, now that her rational, practical mind had reclaimed her, she was rather uncomfortably focused on the scandalous feelings that had just come over her while her husband played. She reluctantly took the proffered drink, telling herself that it was to calm her nerves. To help her reclaim her senses…

She sipped the bittersweet liquid slowly, allowing its warm, burning fingers to trace a pattern down her throat. Rhett watched her for a moment, a smirk on his face before turning to the piano again, placing the decanter back on the ledge of the piano and beginning to play. He continued the piece she had interrupted and she slowly walked over to sit in the window seat of the large bay window that the piano faced.

"What is that song?" she asked. "I've never heard it before."

"It's Nocturne Op.9 No. 2." As he continued to play the piece, he smirked. Keeping his eyes on the keys, he spoke over the melody. "I am not surprised to hear that you haven't heard this music, my pet. It is rather more refined than your tastes. However, I would expect that you would have heard this." Without the slightest pause, the melody drastically and swiftly changed from that of soft, melancholy to cheerful and joyful. Rhett's fingers were bouncing effortlessly over the keys, settling over grand chords and producing a loud, happy harmony. The rhythms were strange but delightful, mixed and changed to be offset with an opposite rhythm within the song. The music was so delightful Scarlett didn't even acknowledge his earlier jab. She giggled suddenly at the sounds coming out of the instrument and though she had been dancing all night, she desperately wished to dance again. She found herself unconsciously bouncing in time to the music, causing Rhett to laugh. However, his laugh was not mocking, but rather purely amused. And with the joyful music in the background, Scarlett couldn't find it in herself to be annoyed by it.

"That's lovely! Of course I know "The Yellow Rose of Texas"!" she giggled.

"Yes, I assumed you would. This song was introduced to the world in the bars and saloons of Texas and California, my pet. And its lyrics are—er—less than honorable. I assume you have never heard them?" Rhett said as he continued the merry tune.

"Of course I've heard them! Why everyone was singing that song during the war and-"

"No, no, my dear. You have heard some altered, fanciful version of this song, said to have quickened the spirits of brave lads in gray during the most dreadful of days. But I doubt that you have ever heard the real words of this song. It's about a mulatto woman and…well, some things that respectable people would never approve of. So they kept the joyful melody but crucified the wicked words on the altar of propriety, and replaced them with a refrain that good Christian folks everywhere can enjoy."

Scarlett ignored what he said, as she often did when he spoke nonsense, and joyfully said, "But you play it so well! I have never heard anyone play like that before! I didn't even know you could play. When did you learn?"

"My mother gave me lessons from the time that I was a small boy. She is a very talented pianist." He rolled his fingers expertly up the board, before continuing again with the same happy melody. "Now, it's all very ironic and I find it quite amusing." he remarked, chuckling. "You see, when I was first branded the black sheep of my family and blotted out for my blackguard ways, piano playing was one of the single most useful talents I possessed." His face softened slightly before he added, "So it seems that even then, my mother was trying to save me." His lips curved slightly with an amusement that was different than she was used to seeing on his face.

"But how—why do you say that?" Scarlett asked, unable to see how piano playing could be in any way useful, let alone a life saving talent.

"Because, my dear, nothing is more profitable than entertainment," he said, diverting his eyes to her. "_Nothing," _he added in his usual mocking tone._ "_And very few things"—he looked her up and down—"are more pleasant…" He showed his animal white teeth to her before turning his attention back to the piano. Scarlett blushed furiously at his suggestion.

This was the first time that Scarlett had ever heard Rhett speak of his childhood, and it was rare that he spoke of the past when it wasn't in some scandalous or adventurous story of his. She was terribly curious and desperately wanted to question him further but her mind went back to a similar conversation in which Rhett had offered the slightest bit of information about himself and had regretted speaking when she questioned him, even to the point of being angry with her. And it was so very rare that he was truly angry with her. She didn't wish to kill the mood between them, and she was definitely not ready for him to stop playing. So she bit her tongue and instead asked, "What else can you play?"

Rhett chuckled. "What would you like to hear?"

Scarlett shrugged and seated herself on the bench next to him as he continued to play "Yellow Rose". "Play something…different. Something you are sure that I would have never heard before…" Rhett laughed but again, without a pause in the music, went swiftly into another tune. One so strange and foreign that Scarlett wasn't quite sure whether she liked it. The melodies were unusual and she felt as if she were in some perverted, warped dream as it played on.

"What…what is that?" she asked.

"It's by a Johann Burgmuller. It's a part of a large work, his _Etudes Opus 109. _This movement is "Thunderstorm"."

Scarlett crinkled her nose a little. "I don't know if I like that…"

Rhett softly chuckled and instantly started playing something else. This song too was like a dream, but a soft, pure dream. A dream of sweet voices and gentle sounds. It was beautiful. "What is this?" she asked breathlessly.

"_Le Cygne_…The Swan," he answered as he continued to play. Again, as she watched his agile fingers dance across the keys, her heart skipped and a strange electricity shot through her body. Her treacherous mind couldn't help but think that if he could dominate and handle such a complicated instrument so effortlessly, imagine the countless other things he could handle and dominate…A lump stuck in her throat at the thought. Mortified, she inwardly thrust the thought from her mind.

"Could you teach me to play?"

Rhett laughed loudly at her request. "My pet, I believe that piano playing (and I mean real piano playing, not that ridiculous interpretation of what young ladies deem to be "fittin" and learn in finishing school) is something that neither of us would have the patience for, should you take it up." He turned to see genuine disappointment on her face, and his heart dropped slightly at the sight of it. "However…" he said quickly, noticing how she straightened up when he continued. "Perhaps we can make beautiful music together…" He grinned, hoping that this was going to be amusing.

Scarlett's smile stretched wide across her face and she nodded enthusiastically, all thoughts of her earlier melancholy gone. Rhett scooted back on the piano bench and gestured for her to sit. She placed herself in front of him, between his two strong thighs. Rhett breathed in the smell of her hair, already feeling the beginnings of want at having her warm, delicate body press against him. He scooted forward, allowing his desire to brush against her back. He stifled a moan, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. He placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly ran them down her arms. He thought that he heard her intake a sharp breath, but couldn't be certain. He couldn't be certain of any sound aside from the firm, pounding of his heart. When he reached her wrist, he lifted up one of her hands before both of their faces.

"Show me one finger," he breathed into her ear. She slowly and shakily lifted her pointer finger in the air. "Good," he whispered. "Now, play what I play…do what I do…" Scarlett nodded slightly. Rhett took his pointer finger and plucked out the melody line from Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata". He asked her to repeat. She stumbled several times and even got lost, but Rhett would gently grasp her fingers and guide her back to playing the correct notes. After a few tries, Scarlett had mastered the beginning bars. Rhett stilled her clumsy fingers.

"Alright, now I will play and you will play when I say to start, alright?" he said softly. "Play when I say to play…" She nodded but said nothing. His arousal continued to grow; he was sure that she could feel the evidence of it, and he wondered if she was affected by that knowledge as he began to play the slow, sensual runs. The beginning of the song was long and heavy, deliberate with anticipation for melody to enter. When it was time for Scarlett to play, Rhett whispered listlessly into her ear, "Play." The intensity of the note as she forced the sound from the instrument was shocking and rolled through Rhett's body straight to the center of his desire. His own playing became more intense, the runs of the lyrical music running together with strong and constrained power. The keys that Scarlett was playing were close to the keys that his fingers continued to caress, and her soft, svelte hand continuously brushed his hand. At one point, her entire hand was covering his. At the feel of her soft flesh against his, his body jerked suddenly with uncontained, ungoverned need. He subtly but deliberately nuzzled his nose softly against her ear lobe. She sucked in a sharp breath and faltered in her playing. She stopped for a moment. Rhett nudged her ear lobe with his nose and whispered, "Play."

He watched as her hand shakily attempted to play again. She continued to falter for a moment and almost gave up again when Rhett whispered, "Remember what I said…. Play." He placed a soft, almost non-existent kiss on the shell of her ear and deliberately released a slow breath down her neck. She audibly sighed and faltered again. Rhett attempted to focus on the music once more before, channeling all his passion for her into the song. Scarlett seemed to understand that somehow, and her playing became more intense as well. The intensity of the song continued to build until Rhett felt that he was pounding the ivory of the keys into the framework of the instrument. He couldn't take the sweet agony anymore. The combination of the hypnotic music and her enticing body was too much.

His left hand ceased playing the powerful double octave bass notes and left the board. He reached for his wife, _his _wife, and touched her waist. She faltered dramatically at the assault, completely distorting the piece and then interrupting her playing altogether. "Play…" he whispered. His right hand continued to wander over the keys even as his left hand claimed Scarlett, his fingers caressing her every curve, playing her more expertly than ever he had played any instrument. She hesitantly began to play again. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns over her body, leaving no area unmarked. As his caresses continued and advanced, Scarlett began to violently, recklessly play the notes he had required of her. The keys struck violently against the framework of the piano and the secret strings underneath the wide cover of the grand whined in protest of her abusive treatment. Rhett's hand, as well, strained and was becoming less lithe and more clumsy the longer he played.

His hand continued to travel over her body. His fingers were now so reckless that they no longer followed a soft, slow trail as they had moments before, but rather grasped and strained to touch every inch of her all at once. He tumultuously grasped at her ribs, and grazed her breast roughly. Scarlett caught her breath and arched into his hand, in return gripping it with her own. Once she had firmly grasped his hand, she slowly ran her hand up his arm past his elbow to his shoulder, struggling to concentrate on continuing to play her commanded notes. When she reached his shoulder, she kneaded it for a moment before continuing her journey past his jaw and ear to the nape of his neck. She grasped him frantically and tugged him downward, forcing him to bury his face into her shoulder. She held him in place and he wildly wrapped himself around her, for the first time faltering on his own notes as well.

"Play…" she demanded breathlessly, losing her place in the song as well. Both of their hands continued to pound on the piano but nothing came out but jumbled and chaotic notes that made no sense and went nowhere.

Rhett growled, "No…you play." Suddenly, he hoisted her up from the bench and swiftly whipped her around and settled her on the keyboard of the piano with a long, loud bang resounding throughout the large, open room. Scarlett braced herself against his body as he stood up, burying his hands in the thick cloth of her dress. His hands moved quickly, lifting the massive amounts of fabric from her calves, knees, thighs. Without another thought, he firmly gripped her from beneath her knees, bringing their bodies together. Scarlett gasped at the feel of his warm, firm hands on her body; his fingers kneading into the flesh on the inside of her thighs

The music was still in her head, but it was different now. It was urgent and forceful and it spurred her on. She buried her hands in his hair, and brought his face close to hers. His breathing was heavy and she could smell his skin. She clutched his hair tightly before loosening her grip over and over, and with parted lips she grazed his nose, lips, cheeks; over his face, torturing herself with his smell and his skin. She could taste him on her tongue and she hadn't even experienced him yet.

Baser instincts that she hadn't even known existed, that she had never felt before, were beginning to surface and she marveled at her boldness even as she reveled in it, even as she was excited by it. She raked her fingernails down Rhett's still clad body and still lower before gripping him firmly from behind and pushing his hips into hers, as a feeling of power, a surge of dominance spurred her on and on further…he was _hers. She _made him groan throatily into her hair as he pulled frantically at her dress. _She _gripped him tightly in her hands with assurance and without reserve because he was _hers. _And only she could make him feel this way…

The music continued to get louder, and the louder it became, the more powerful feeling of desperation began to replace the urgency she had first felt. The music was dissonant now, made no sense…much like the music that she and Rhett had played.

They had momentarily halted their frantic touches; a slow languidness taking over their movements. She still gripped him firmly and he still roughly molded his fingers into her thighs, but it was as if everything was in slow motion. She slowly traced her cheek across his, feeling his stubble on her sensitive skin. A shock of some strange electricity overtook her abdomen and paved a deep, jarring trail to her most secret place.

Suddenly Rhett's mouth was on hers and his tongue was in her mouth. She groaned wantonly and the electricity that she had felt suddenly ricocheted back up and through her whole body. She grabbed him behind the neck and wrapped her legs tightly around him. She kissed him back, tasting him and noticing that he tasted even better than she had first imagined. She heard nothing but the loud and continually growing music in her head. No, not the harsh moans coming from her throat, nor the hoarse, husky notes coming from deep in Rhett's chest. She had only two senses in those moments: touch and taste. And nothing had ever felt better or satisfied her more.

The music was overpowering now, as Rhett had rid her of her undergarments with a swift and uncouth rip across the seams and had quickly entered her.

Scarlett took in a sharp breath at the feel of her husband's sudden but welcomed assault and instinctively her body moved of its own accord: thrusting towards Rhett before retreating and then doing it all over again. Rhett seemed to pick up her rhythm and both were soon caught up in a dance, a dance to which the music was within their own minds, accented by their cries of ecstasy and the chaotic, disordered chords that they made when they crashed against the white and black keys. The music continued to get louder as heaven rained over their bodies, and then suddenly it reached a crescendo and Scarlett gripped Rhett tighter as it overtook her. At their peak, Rhett leaned forward frantically in an attempt to support himself but only managed to grip the board of the piano, and a greater array of cacophonic chords enveloped them.

Rhett leaned heavily against her as their breathing slowed. She was gripping his back tightly. The notes from the piano surrounded them, but the music in her head was beautiful and soft now…like _The Swan. _Steady… She could feel Rhett beneath her fingertips…she could even still feel him inside of her, but it was all like a dream. The only thing she truly felt now was peace, and so she gripped him and held him close because he was the only solid thing she was conscious of. The only solid thing she wanted to be conscious of…the source of the peace she felt.

Rhett suddenly whispered, and his voice seemed far away, "When I suggested we make music together, I didn't think we would write our own symphony." He pulled away from her in order to see her face and grinned as he watched her come back to reality. Her eyes widened slightly and first she looked at the door, then at his face and then buried her head in his shoulder. He knew that they were both thinking of the…interesting piece of music they had just composed, though they had both been pretty oblivious to it while it was playing. Rhett was amused by her modesty and continued in a soft voice:

"What do you suppose we should call it?" He caught a tendril of hair between his fingers and tucked it behind her ear, before wrapping his arms around her waist and swinging her into his arms. When she didn't answer he said, "I was thinking…Requiem."

Scarlett's brows furrowed and she looked at him and spoke for the first time, "Like something you play when someone dies?" She didn't know much above the technical aspects of music, but she knew what requiem meant. During the war, there had been too many funerals and too many deaths not to have heard the term and to have known that it was a tune meant to be a eulogy. She didn't know whether she should be insulted by Rhett's suggestion.

Rhett sighed and Scarlett saw the beginnings of his mocking grin. But it bothered her little, though it normally would have. He had swiped her up in his arms and was carrying her towards the stairs. As he walked out of the parlor he replied to her in his same mocking voice, but with something gentler in his tone…and more suggestive. "I see that your finishing school never taught you the finer points of French culture, my baby. Perhaps a lesson is in order…" His words were dripping with possibilities and Scarlett couldn't wait to see what her next lesson would involve…

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I will post links to the musical compositions in this story on my profile :) Thanks for reading...


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